We're back; fromma White Coat's Lab ...
I nowed sumpin wuz up last nite. We gotz our grub urlee, then no outie till reel dark:thirty. Dad grabs a zippie bag an hooks me up onna leash stringy. No runnin inna yard; jest lotsa *go poddies*. I gived up and took a dump. Dad uses his litestik then scoops up my stuff inna zippie bag?? SmokeMan's next onna leash. Found out later he wuz a tuff case - no poddy while Dad's lookin. Came back in wiff Dad mutterin he thinks he got the rong pile - handz were so kold he couldn't tell iffin it wuz "fresh".
Lebbin a-klok atta shop; nudder zippei bag an Smoke goes out solo, wiff Dad hawk-eyen out the door. Dashes out an comes back *grinnin* wiffa fresh bag of Smokey stinkie.
Letz go, hop inna trakter kar.
Hmmmm, this house looks familiar. Uh, Oh; it's Doc Mike's Lab. In we go; Smoke turns onna *shake & vibrate* motor.
Furst thing is that durn elevator table wiffa meter thingy. I rides up an Doc sez...
Hmm, 49.1; that's up four frum April.
Uh, Oh...
Doc's Gurl sez Wun more pound an she needs the big, spensive HeartGard.
Hush, Gurl!!
She's not overweight, YET; but you should cut her back a little...
Dad sez She won't get to 50.
Uh, Oh...
I got off purdy good; earbones squeekie kleen, heart tickin and lungs sukkin OK, toofs kleen enuff, eyeballs shinee an brite. OkeeDoKee, I'm outta here...
Check her hips.
The're fine, Dad. Whooa Doc; easy onna joints - my legbones don't go that far!
She's fine, nice and tight. Hold her for the *shot*.
{{Full-Nelson applied to headbone}}
{{Zippp, whooshe, pop!}}
Whas'zat?
Good Cinder, here's a biscuit!
Purdy durn small biskit fer all that Dad's payin ya, but thanks, Doc.
OK, Smoke, hop on the scale.
Nuts ta that, ya pulled me off when I tried ta jump on wiff Cinners. Well, OK; since ya tossed me on an tied me here; I'll jest cower an *shake*.
He's 43.1; but the four pounds since April look good on him. And look - he's stopped shaking! Good boy, Smokey!
{{Blush}} Na-na, Cinners.
Hey, Doc; get that telescope outta my earbone.
Express my WHATZ? Put my tailbone DOWN!
Hold onto him; he won't like this.
Yipes! I sure won't do ennie more *rug skootin* on my butt while Dad's lookin!
Yep, he needed that.
Like heck I did! Hope yer finnerbone stinks!
What about that knee, Doc?
{{more groping and poking onna kneebone}}
Well, he's got a class 3 out of 4 "medial Luxating Patella"; he'll be a candidate for surgery if it gets any worse or bothers him. Cost about $800 at the hospital clinic I'd recommend.
I jest GOTZ ta stop *limpin*! Hoppsbittel? An they're talkin bout that Sir Jury guy again. Ate hunnerd buckz will buy a lotta toyz an chew bonze. Letz skip the Sir Jury gig!
Gimmie the krummie biskit an letz get OUTTA here!
Bring him back in February for his *shotz* and we'll look at it again.
Doc, you can bet yer last bippie I'll be outta towne that day! Hmmm; tasty biskit!
Glad that's ober wiff! Hey, Dad; does Smokey relee have to go see that Sir Jury guy?
We'll have to think about it. We don't want him to be a cripple in a few years... Let's go back to the Shop and you Kids can have brunch.
OkeeDoKee; thatz a good plan!!
{a short while later...}}
HEY Dad! Were's the resta my krunchies!??
That'll be enough for you, from now on, "Chubby".
CHUBBIE? Doc Mike dint say THAT! Jest cuz he rolled my side furz half way round to my backbonez don't mean nuffin...
Smoke - didja have yer paw onna up-an-down table when they wuz all watchin the meter dial?
Nope, I dint do nuffin. Hey Cinners, how come we call that the White Coat's Lab? That nice Doc Mike wuz wearin a blue-green skrubby shirt an pantz, notta white coat?
Shut yer trap, Gimpy. I'm commin ober to help you suck up yer krunchies iffin yer not dun when I finish whut liddel I got in my bowl!
Sheese, whadda *grouch* she kan be!
OK, Dad; I'm all dunn pawboardin my storrie - letz head for the Ranch and DINNER!
Not dinner time yet, Kid. Suck it in for a while!
Grrrrr! Itz gonna be a loooong winter...
[ September 26, 2001: Message edited by: Cinder & Smoke ]
/s/ Cinder, Smokey & Heidi
R.I.P. ~ Boots, Bowser, Sherman, & Snoopy
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